


What Happens to Glenn and Ron in All the Oakson Bed Sharing Fics

by myuncleownsthistheatre



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, genuine platonic bed-sharing, like bro there's only one bed...bro ...bro... and then they actually are just bros, no actual mention of the other dads despite the name drop in the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myuncleownsthistheatre/pseuds/myuncleownsthistheatre
Summary: Listen. I am guilty of the convenient room-splitting convention, and it's my responsibility to provide some character growth to the inhabitants of the ever-elusive Other Room.Basically this could have been funny but I wrote the first pass at midnight and I started to Project.
Relationships: Ron Stampler & Glenn Close
Comments: 25
Kudos: 124





	What Happens to Glenn and Ron in All the Oakson Bed Sharing Fics

Ron has slept on a lot of floors in his life. 

It’s not an issue, then, to sleep on the floors of inns when there’s only one bed. It’s not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s more comfortable than having to navigate the social minefield of actually trying to _share_ the bed with Glenn. It always seems to be Glenn, and he's nice and all, but he’s nice because he doesn’t seem to care that much about anything. And because he doesn’t care, he’s confident, and confident people make Ron feel at odds. It’s one thing in business, because everyone’s kind of fake in business. When nobody’s acting like their real selves you can just imagine you’re talking to a room of cardboard cutouts. There’s no such escape when you’re trying to talk to a friend.

‘Ah. The presidential suite.’ Glenn jokes as he lights the two candles by the door and the room glows. It’s tiny, just a bed and a table and barely room for one person to walk between them. The wooden floorboards are worn shiny and the shutter on the window is cracked. Glenn falls onto the mattress. Sweet-smelling dust erupts around him like a tiny sandstorm.

Glenn is still coughing as Ron squeezes between the bed and the wall, sliding against the floorboards. He can see right under the bed to the other side. There’s crumbs under there that could definitely lead to mice, but he decides just to not think about it. Mice probably can’t even go upstairs, anyway.

‘Bless you.’ He offers as Glenn catches his breath. Somehow, this makes him splutter again.

‘Ron, come on man, get up on the bed! You can’t sleep in there!’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s stupid! Just share the bed for one night, alright, you won’t _die._ ’

Tentatively, Ron sits back up. He stands up. The bed frame catches his hip painfully on the way.

‘I appreciate the offer,’ He’s in business mode, ‘But I don’t think I can sleep with a man.’

Glenn laughs. It’s a confident laugh. It’s an I-don’t-care laugh. Business mode is shattered.

‘I’m not homophobic.’ Ron stammers out, almost as a reflex. And he’s not, and it doesn’t matter anyway because he knows that this isn’t like that. 

‘I know you’re not. Besides, this isn’t like that.’ Glenn shrugs, And for a second it’s like they’re on the same wavelength. ‘I mean, don’t say ‘sleep with’, I know you know that means something different.’

He doesn’t, actually.

Glenn pats the bed again, invitingly, and then swings his legs off the other side, facing the wall, taking off his jacket. The bed looks soft, or softer than the seats of the minivan, anyway, and definitely softer than the floor. Ron scratches his chin. It doesn’t make any sense that Glenn would willingly give up half of his bed for him without any real reason. It doesn’t really make sense that anyone but Samantha would be willing to sleep that close to him at all. People normally find him gross or weird, and that makes them not trust him. 

Once, just once he was invited to a sleepover. Maybe it was something he did, or he said something wrong. Maybe he was just asking for it, but either way another kid spread a rumor that Ron had brought a knife with him, and the host’s parents promised to call his parents first thing in the morning. The party had gone on mostly unbothered, but he’d spent the night curled up by the sliding glass doors watching the family’s dog dig up their lawn. 

The irony is that he has brought a knife to this sleepover. And still the right hand side of the bed is being offered to him. 

‘You’re not playing a trick on me, are you?’ He has to ask. He’d be an idiot if he didn’t at least _ask._

‘Damn, dawg, take the floor if that’s how much you trust me!’ Glenn throws his hands up in mock defeat. Ron sits on the bed. ‘Well if that’s all it took.’ 

‘I am pretty tired.’ Ron admits. This one he can already tell is mutual. The tremor in Glenn’s hands as he took off his jacket matches the aching feeling in Ron’s own muscles. The scratchy mattress smells like dry grass and it’s calling out to him like it was the thickest memory foam king size at the store. 

‘I hear you.’ Glenn grunts. He tries to blow out the candle across the room without getting up, not like he thinks it’ll work, but just like he’s illustrating how much he doesn’t want to get up and extinguish it. Ron just watches him, because it’s funny, and he’s learning that when you have friends, sometimes you can just appreciate the funny things they do without always wondering what you’ll do that’ll make them mad. Glenn gets up and blows out the flames, and then he does that thing where he licks his fingers and pinches the wick to get rid of the embers. He does it like he’s not even afraid of burning his fingers. 

‘How do you do that?’

‘What? How can you see me, Ron, it’s completely dark.’

This seems like a weird question.

‘It’s not too dark to see. Can you not see me?’

‘Of course not.’ Glenn is feeling his way blindly back towards the bed. It’s a strange sight. 

‘To the right.’ Ron advises. 

‘You must have crazy eyesight, man.’

It’s not something he’s thought about. Glasses wouldn’t suit him, though, so that’s good news. Samantha’s reading glasses make his eyes go blurry whenever he tries them on. It’s an unpleasant feeling but sometimes it does hold a strange appeal. Sunglasses suit him just fine. Glenn is lying down in bed beside him. 

‘Are you just gonna sit up straight all night? Thought you said you were tired.’

He’s so tired. He’s so, so, tired. He kicks off his shoes, and tosses his belt on top of them. Then he slips himself between the sheet and the rough wool blanket in a straight line, keeping to himself like it’s an extreme sport. Slowly, he curls his knees to his chest, wrapping himself up as small as he can go. And just like that he’s in bed. He’s in an actual bed for the first time since he got up on the morning of Terry Jr’s soccer game. And it doesn’t remind him of home. It’s nothing like home. 

His bed at home smells like store-brand fabric conditioner and flannel pajamas, and there’s always the sound of cars driving past on the road. Sharing a bed with Glenn really isn’t comparable to sharing with Samantha. For one thing, he already knows Glenn talks in his sleep, and for another he’s never had to worry about what he might get accused of if he accidentally touches his wife. 

So it’s not like home, but it is a little like a sleepover; the first sleepover he’s had in something like thirty years, and he’s got a knife by his bed and Glenn knows about it and he doesn’t care and honestly either of them could probably kill the other if they just waited for him to fall asleep, but they close their eyes anyway because they know it won’t happen. And that’s trust, Ron supposes. And that’s why he falls asleep, eventually, listening to the inn settling brick by brick.


End file.
